


Capitulation

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Gen, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-25
Updated: 2011-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captured by the Autobots after a battle a Decepticon expects to be offlined, pity his captor wanted something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Capitulation

**Apprehension**

:Initiating boot sequence:

:...:

:Error:

:Initiating internal diagnostic:

:...:

:Internal diagnostic complete:

:Commlink offline:

:Weapons offline:

:Transformation cog offline:

:Continuing boot sequence:

:...:

My optics onlined to the sight of a clear sky.

Trying to move produced only a soft moan of pain which slipped past my vocaliser. The diagnostic hadn’t included the half slagged motor relays in one hip and what felt suspiciously like an energon leak.

And to add insult to injury, the dark blue and black frame that had just appeared above me, blocking out the light is most definitely not an ally.

The blue mech whistled from behind a facemask, one hand reaching out to dig into a sensitive seam.

I yelped, a strangled sound, but what little motor control that remained in my grasp was useless to squirm away from the intruding digits.

“Found something?” A second mech appeared in my field of view, amused red optics bright against a blue green paint as he peered down, a smile that held no reassurance forming across his faceplates.

The blue mech whistled again, tone clearly enquiring as he held up an energon coated hand.

“It won’t offline him if he’s patched up, so I suppose we could keep him.” The green coloured mech allowed as he ran several medical scans over my frame.

Blue chirred, a strangely happy sound as he remained crouched, energon covered fingers painting patterns on my chassis as his scarlet optics wandered over my frame.

Not good. Not good. Not good.

The same words seemed to buzz around my processor as I strained to move my helm. To see if what I feared was true.

I was alone with the enemy.

No last minute retreat from this.

No heroic rescue at the last moment.

No.

Some part of me hadn’t wanted to believe it. Had too now though; the red optics and purple insignia on the mechs combing the battlefield for any survivors and patching injuries confirmed my fears.

I was at the mercy of my enemy.

“Well, isn’t that cute. You got yourself a new toy.”

The green medic narrowed his eyes, even as his weapon hummed into life, coils and relays flaring with light as it charged.

Blue, now crouched at the medics peds snarled, the sound a rough noise like sand being ground in the cogs of his vocaliser.

The encroaching mech raised his hands slightly, yellow visor glowing as he kept his weapon pointed at the floor and very clearly powered it down.

“Wise choice.” The medic said as the red coloured mech backed away.

At least the rumors about annoying the medic and paying the price seemed to be true. Deactivation at least wouldn’t come from the surrounding mechs, inconspicuously watching as the medic made it clear that touching his prize would be a bad idea.

If I wasn’t the prize in question I would probably have found it funny. The fact that some of the most feared mechs in the opposing faction would back down to a single medic; when they wouldn’t hesitate twice at striding into one of our most heavily armed bases to attack.

The chirring of a vocaliser drew my optics away from tracking the retreating aft of the red mech, to the blue menace who was now running a strangely gentle hand over my helm, to the medic standing behind him with a satisfied grin stretching across his faceplates. “Come now, we won’t hurt you too badly if you cooperate.” He said, the grin getting, if anything, even wider.

Blue chirped again, his headfins flashing red and orange in quick succession.

The medic laughed, an amused sound which did nothing to still my racing spark, as he crouched down and reached a hand around my helm, fingers feeling for the medical port in my neck. The cover was flipped up, the last words he spoke only vaguely registering in my processor as the medical override began a full system shutdown.

“I think we’re going to enjoy having you around Hook.”

* * *

 **Incarceration**

I frowned, where were my brothers? I froze, one arm still outstretched to find them, my optics snapped on to peer around the room in a wild panic. This wasn’t the Nemesis.

The bond which had always been present as a shining light in my processor, stretched tight as I reached down it, seeking the comfort which had always been available. A very faint sense of relief, of joy, of reassurance returned down the bond. I hadn’t been forgotten.

Backing up until I pressed against a wall I realised I could move again.

The hole in my side had been patched while I was offline. I frowned at the rough edging on the black plate which stood out against my paint job. I snorted. Did the medic have no sense of taste? The repair itself was perfect, but the finish... where was his sense of aesthetics?

Better than leaking energon I suppose.

“Aid said Ratchet had got a new pet, didn’t believe him.” The voice made me jerk up from my inspection of my side, I hadn’t heard anybody approaching.

“Yeah, you owe him a wax now.” Two bots were perched on nearby berths, peering down at me.

“Think we might have the advantage over Devastator next time we meet?” The first bot asked as he stretched out face down on the berth.

The other giggled. “Well, you could say Devastator is Armless now.”

“And legless, and bodyless.” Blades added as he swung his peds in the air from his reclining position, his rotor blades lazily swinging as he moved.

“Frag off.” I snarled arms crossed as I stared up at them.

“Ooooooh, scary.” Streetwise said with a shudder. “Feel my fear.”

Blades laughed again, “Poor little constructicon, all alone.”

“Awwwwww, is Ratchets new pet missing his brothers?”

“We could always catch them for you. We could all have one then.”

Lunging forwards at the laughing helicopter that had just threatened my gestalt mates I was pulled up short by a jerk on my neck and the rattle of a chain pulling taut.

Reaching a hand up to my neck I traced the outline of the metal band securely welded in place.

I hadn’t even noticed it.

“Wild animals need a collar and leash to keep them under control,” the two gestalt members grinned as they hopped off the berths and sauntered towards the doors, “but don’t worry, I’m sure Ratchet will tame you soon enough”

A snarl made it past my vocaliser before they slipped out of the room, door cycling shut behind them with an ominous thud.

I remained crouching as I surveyed the room; the chain wasn’t long enough for me to reach anything in what I assumed to be the ‘bots medbay. A yank at the ring and padlock in the corner assured me I wouldn’t be getting out on my own anytime soon.

A quick check of my subspace showed it had been emptied and the warning glyph that had been flickering at the side of my vision since I woke had already confirmed that my weapons, communications and transformation cog were all disabled, or in the case of my weapons, completely removed.

Retreating to the corner I pulled my knees to my chest and offlined my optics. Reaching out for the faint and barely there comfort of my gestalt I shuddered.

They wouldn’t leave me here.

But the question would be whether there was anything left when they arrived.

* * *

 **Comprehension**

A poke in the back woke me from my recharge.

Running a quick internal diagnostic before I uncurled from my corner showed that my external sensors had been taken offline, the lack of a proximity warning would explain the bots creeping up on me.

“Good morning.” The cheerful greeting of the Autobot medic was met with my silence as I put my back to the wall and folded my arms across my chest.

I ignored the medic as he grinned down at me. “That’s no way to greet the ‘bot who saved your life.”

“I’d rather be offline.”

“No you wouldn’t.” He said, confident that he was right, “If you were offlined what would happen to your gestalt?”

I turned my head away at that observation. Rumour had it that the Protectobots were his creation, if they was any truth to that then he would know that I wouldn’t wish to leave my gestalt to deal with my loss. I’d live just to spare them the pain.

I narrowed my optics as he motioned for me to move aside, I considered refusing before common sense won out. No use getting damaged for something trivial, it would be no good if they tried to rescue me only to find I was too injured to be moved. Once I was out of the way he unlocked the chain from the ring embedded into the floor.

Wrapping the free end around his hand he backed away. “Come.”

Gritting my denta against the strain in my neck I refused to move. He smirked as he gave a more forceful jerk to the leash, “we can do this the easy way or the painful way.”

His free hand removed a shock stick from his subspace. They had been used by enforcers to keep prisoners under control before the war started. Point made he returned it to his subspace as he gave another tug.

“Come.”

Resigned to following the medic I pushed myself to my peds, I managed a couple of steps before a downward jerk on the chain sent me to the floor.

Shutting off the warnings about my newly dented knees I glared up at my captor.

“Come.”

I could really start to hate that word.

Pushing myself upright I didn’t even manage a single step before being flat on my face, helm ringing from the impact, warnings yet again flashing in front of my optics.

“I thought you were more intelligent than this.” Ratchet said as he waited for my systems to reset before stepping backwards again.

The insistent tugging forced me to get up or potentially be dragged across the floor. A random idea crossed my CPU as I prepared to get back on my peds.

No, no, no.

He couldn’t want that.

I felt wiring tense as I turned the thought over.

I wouldn’t.

“Come on pet, I think you’ve worked out what I want.”

Looking up I narrowed my optics. “Frag you.”

I would not crawl.

* * *

 **Designation**

“Morning pet.” I huddled further into my corner, ignoring the medic as he raised the light level and began setting his medbay out for another day. Not that any bots had come in here, it seemed like the rumours were true and coming to Ratchet for repairs was a last resort. The unusual noise of the doors opening for a second time gave me something to focus on other than watch what had, in the short time I had been here, become routine.

The engineer chirred as he approached me, I shrank back but he just patted me on the helm a couple of times before ambling over to Ratchet.

The medic never stopped setting out his tools as the engineer hopped onto a nearby berth and settled into a crouch, audial fins flashing as he regarded the medic.

“What do you want Jack?” he asked as the last spanner was laid out.

Wheeljack tilted his head before trilling and pointing at me. Ratchet laughed and shook his head even as I felt my gears and servos stiffen as I shifted my optics between the two of them.

I had been hoping for some company other than Ratchet, but now I was seriously wishing that thought away. The medic might be pure evil, but at least he was marginally sane. For all I know Wheeljack could have been asking Ratchet if he can make me into his latest experiment.

The engineer’s fins flashed a dull green as he gave a mournful warble, his shoulders drooping. Ratchet patted him on the shoulder before coming over to me and unlocking my chain.

Giving it the customary tug to get me moving I ignored Wheeljacks delighted chirp as I obediently crawled after the medic. I had stopped being humiliated by crawling some time after Ratchet had stopped my energon ration unless I obeyed him. Being almost completely drained of energy is not something I aspire to do on a regular basis.

“Good pet. Stay.” He ordered before unhooking the chain from my collar as we got to the centre of the room.

“My designation is Hook.” I stated as I hunched my shoulders, watching both of the Autobots carefully in case I needed to dodge. Withholding energon was Ratchets last resort. His usual response to my stubborn refusal to obey is to throw things, and I have found he has a really good throwing arm, and what seems to be an endless supply of wrenches.

Ratchet vented air as he regarded me, but made no move to throw anything; instead he just retreated to his office, leaving the door open, as he sat down at his desk and booted up his terminal.

“Come here pet,” he said, curling his fingers in a come hither gesture before dropping his hand to his thigh and patting it.

Not a chance.

Bouncing off the berth he had been occupying Wheeljack circled round me to join Ratchet, crouching at his peds he tilted his head at me. His fins flashed purple as he pulled something out of his subspace and held it out to me.

I snarled and ignored him.

Shifting aching gears and servos I lifted my head to regard the two Autobots. Ratchet hadn’t moved in the past few hours, engrossed in whatever was on his viewscreen. Wheeljack was stood behind him, top half of his body lounging across the back of the chair, chin resting on Ratchet’s shoulder, seemingly unbothered by what looked to be a rather awkward position as he too followed whatever was onscreen.

A quick glance at the main door showed it was locked, as always. I’d learnt that lesson early on.

I ignored the churning in my tanks as I kept an optic on Ratchet. The fragger knew I would be needing energon soon. I shifted my gaze to the small cube on the floor by his peds.

They are so engrossed they might have forgotten me.

Edging closer to the office and the two mechs I stopped, waiting for a reaction. Nothing. Not even a flicker of an optic in my direction.

Crawling over to the chair I reached a hand out and snagged the energon cube as soon as I was close enough.

“Good pet.”

Snarling at the medic who hadn’t even looked my way I retreated into the main med bay to my corner, prize in hand.

 **Recollection**

I don’t know how long I spent curled up in my corner; it can’t have been that long before Ratchet dragged me out, remarking that I was being a coward. Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one with a hole in his spark and a silent corner in his processor. They had all said that separating a gestalt was impossible. I guess Ratchet has disproved that theory.

I ignored the cube of energon he placed on the ground with the warning that he would force feed me if it was necessary, apparently I wasn’t allowed to curl up like an injured turbofox and wait to offline.

Reminded me of the time Scavenger tried to tame an injured turbofox we found while on patrol near Kaon.

It spent weeks huddled in the back of a hastily constructed cage as the patches I had welded on healed over, cowering from us whenever we entered the room.

Scavenger eventually had us all speaking to it whenever we were around to try and get it used to our presence.

He made it a nice cage, with room to move about and a boarded up area to make a den in with some soft rags.

And he spent a lot of his off duty time with it on a leash. The first few times it was a whirl of turbines pulling at the restraint as it zoomed madly around seeking a way out.

Over time it got used to him, stopped trying to escape, he even managed to have it eating out of his hand.

But there was still times when it would sit in its cage, hunched up, peering out through the bars. We often wondered if it remembered what it was like before.

I think I finally know what the poor thing felt like. No matter how nice a cage is inside, the bars are still there.

It escaped when the base was attacked one time. Scavenger was devastated for weeks, kept waiting outside hoping it would come back. We tried to tell him that it wouldn’t, that it was a wild turbofox not some pampered cybercat, and dying in the back alleys of Kaon would be preferable to living in a cage.

I wonder if that’s what Ratchet sees in me, a wild animal to tame and bend to his will.

If he does he better remember I’m not too different from one.

Snagging the energon cube I ignored his smirk as I felt my energy levels rising. If I see a chance to escape, I won’t hesitate.

* * *

 **Inhibition**

I snarled as a hand flicked across my chassis, warm metal grazing across my backplate as I followed Ratchet down the hallway.

It wasn’t the first one either, but as the leash Ratchet was holding was too short for me to do anything but follow him, I was reduced to glaring at the culprits as they went past.

Turning into what looked to be the bots rec room Ratchet moved over to one of the tables and motioned for me to kneel.

I could feel the optics burning into my back as the bots around the room leered at me; I clenched my hands, fingers digging dents into my palms.

The walk down the hall had been bad enough, seeing the knowing gazes as I obeyed their medic, my enemy.

“Come on pet, you can kneel or I can punish you here.”

I shuddered, involuntarily taking a step back as several bots sniggered behind me.

Ratchet leant forward, vocaliser right next to my helm, “faster you obey, the faster it will all be over.”

Offlining my optics I slipped to my knees, head bowed, I was not going to look up and see the amused faces surrounding me as Ratchet patted my helm before unclipping the leash, “good pet, stay, I’m just going to get energon.”

I hate him.

Why am I still obeying him?

I drew in a shuddering intake of air, trying to stop my frame from trembling.

Coward.

That I’d rather be reduced to this than fighting as a proud Decepticon, I should be defying him, disobeying, raising my helm, looking him in the optics. Not cowering at his peds, grovelling.

“Good pet.” Ratchet praised as he returned and sat down, tugging me closer to his legs. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it.”

I turned my helm into his legs to hide from the watchful optics around the room.

No. Not hard at all.

Coward.

* * *

 **Resignation**

It’s been too long.

They must think I’m dead.

Not that I’d blame them. They don’t know Ratchet found a way to break a gestalt link without destroying the sanity of the gestalt.

And escaping? Ha. I’ve only made it outside of medbay once.

I didn’t get far.

And for what it was worth I won’t be trying it again. Not a lesson I intend to repeat, aside from throwing wrenches it’s the only time Ratchet has ever struck me.

Besides the door has been changed to automatically lock when it closes so the other Autobots can’t accidentally leave me an escape path.

And even if I get out again, I have to get out of the base and then find my way past all the patrols and then find out where I am.

Better I stay here.

At least I’m in one piece.

* * *

 **Hesitation**

Crouching at Ratchets peds I tensed as he ran a hand over my helm, in what I assumed was meant to be a comforting gesture, at least, it seemed to calm Wheeljack when something set him off, but it just wound my systems into a bigger feedback loop.

I could feel the cables and gears tighten even as I cowered closer to Ratchet, the panic that had sent me to the dubious safety at his peds yet to fade.

“Jazz wouldn’t have hurt you.” Ratchet murmured as his hand continued to move over my helm, “none of them would dare.”

I shook my head, a whimper escaping my vocaliser as the panic started to fade and programs which had been initiated by my blind flight finally stopped running.

No, none of them would dare to hurt me, well, not the sane ones anyway, the entire base had seen what Ratchet had done to the minibots after he’d been called away from the medbay and had left me alone. It was probably a good thing he’d come back to retrieve some tools and found them before they did too much damage or I think I’d have several minibot shells keeping me company.

But in this case I think harm had been a long way from Jazz’s thoughts, or at least, no harm from his point of view.

Poking my helm around Ratchets legs I peered out into the main medbay, debating whether it was safe to go back out or whether I should stay here for a while longer just to be on the safe side.

The glowing silvery blue light of a visor and a flash of white and black chassis made my decision for me.

Distasteful as it may be, at least Ratchet offered some sort of protection.

Settling down I leant my head back against his legs, trying not to shudder as the hand on my helm never lifted.

Still it was preferable to whatever Jazz may have had planned.

* * *

 **Profession**

“Pet?”

Twisting my helm I gave Ratchet a questioning glance without moving my hands from their location within Wheeljack’s chassis.

“Where did you put the fuel injectors?”

Pulling one hand out of the web of scorched energon and coolant lines I motioned towards one of the cabinets. When he opened the correct one I returned to my work of patching Wheeljack up.

Again.

Rumours that said he blew himself up so often the welding from his last repairs didn’t have time to set were considered a joke on the Nemesis. Given that this is the third time I’ve patched him up, and before he let me help, Ratchet patched him up a fair bit while I’ve been here; I have to conclude that the rumours are actually quite true.

At least it gave me something to do. Ratchet wouldn’t let me use anything that could be used as a weapon, but even paint detailing and splicing wires and lines was a welcome change from staring at the wall of Ratchets office all day, unless he decided to go to the rec room and take me along.

I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed doing my job until Ratchet had needed a second pair of hands and I’d been the only one available. I’d been hauled over to the berth and instructed to clamp off any leaks that I could see.

I’d contemplated tearing out the energon lines in my patient’s throat for a few nanoclicks before my medical training had banished the thought. The oath that I had made to the medic who had trained me still strong: ‘heal any who are brought to you, no matter their chassis or function’, or in this case, no matter their allegiance.

I am no oath breaker.

Even if it had been Prime that I was working on.

* * *

 **Reflection**

I called the medbay home. Only in my mind. But still.

Home is my quarters on the Nemesis. Not here. Not a cold corner of a room in a base I shouldn’t be in.

At least if I tell myself that I might believe it.

I know where this is going. I’m a medic; I’ve seen it in others. Never thought I’d be a living study.

I remember a time we rescued one of ours from an Autobot prison and he begged us not to hurt the mech in charge of the prisoners. I’ve never seen Megatron look so confused.

I think I’d do the same.

I can’t explain it.

I know Ratchet’s manipulating me.

My processor knows that and I hate him.

Yet, he is my protection, my salvation, the only reason I’m still online. He has fought for me, healed me, cared for me.

Every day a little more resistance crumbles, it has been so long since I first came to be here.

At first I held on to my gestalt, a grounding force in a changing world.

Then that link was cut. Set adrift I’ve clung to the only constant I still have.

Ratchet.

I can’t help but smile back at him as he looks up from his datapad when I shift, making the chain rattle.

I still hate him.

* * *

 **Oscillation**

“Hook?” The Decepticon asked, the others behind him watching me closely, even as their weapons were trained on the Autobots behind me. “Hook, its Scrapper, it’s time to go home.”

Home?

“We thought you had been offlined. We couldn’t feel you in the gestalt bond anymore.”

I ran my optics over the gathering, Scrapper, Scavenger, Long Haul, Mixmaster, Bonecrusher, and another I did not recognise.

I clenched my hands.

Ratchet was right. They didn’t need me.

How long had it been before I had been replaced?

“Hook? Brother. Come on.” My gestalt leader held a hand out towards me.

Brother.

Gestalt.

Kin.

I should go with them. I would have a new brother, not a replacement.

Still I hesitated, one hand reaching up, an involuntary movement to seek the comfort of my collar.

Looking at the group in front I let my gaze roam over their hopeful expressions. I glanced back, Ratchet was still watching, expression faintly amused, his lips turned up into the superior smirk that I had come to know so well. Raising a hand a small way from his waist he curled it back in towards his body.

I had taken a step towards him at the familiar gesture in an increasingly unfamiliar situation, before several of the Cons hissed, glaring at the medic, hands tightening on weapons.

“He’s free to make his own choice.” Ratchet said with a lazy drawl, “if he chooses to leave I’ll let him go, will you say the same?”

I traced the indentation of a series of glyphs etched into my collar as I frowned.

Free?

My choice?

* * *

 **Capitulation**

“Why did you stay?”

Why had I stayed?

He had offered what I had been wanting for so long.

Freedom.

Why had I not taken it?

I tried to summon the hatred I once felt for the Autobot medic but it wouldn’t come.

I knew he did things I would rather not know.

Yet still I had turned to the one thing that had become a constant.

Did that make me weak?

If I had been stronger would I have chosen to return to my gestalt?

If I had been stronger would I have been able to step across the line which had been drawn between myself and my brothers?

A line I hadn’t even realised had been created until it came to the moment.

Turning my helm into the hand that absently rubbed across it as Ratchet contemplated a datapad I cycled air in a sigh.

When had Ratchet changed from a captor to a companion?

I gave a harsh laugh; Ratchet curled a hand around my shoulder pulling me back until I was resting against his legs, hand running comfortingly across my helm.

Why did I stay?

“I don’t know.”

How had it come to this?


End file.
